Forget Me Not
by Crawler
Summary: Burt Hummel is a very lucky man, surviving a nasty car accident with little more than a smashed-up leg and a bump to his head. Oh... and a complete lack of memory when it comes to his son...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Forget Me Not

**Author:** Spider

**Pairing, Character(s):** Kurt, Burt, Finn, and Carole are the big players, with Mercedes and the Jones parents, and brief (very brief) mentions of all the other Gleeks.

**Rating:** PG for some bad words.

**Warnings:** Fictional amnesia (in that I made stuff up about it). Bad words. AssholeJock!Burt

**Spoilers:** Season 1

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Glee, I'd be hugging Chris Colfer and simultaneously torturing Kurt Hummel. Unfortunately, I don't own Glee, so I must content myself with fiction.

**Summary:** Burt Hummel is a very lucky man, surviving a nasty car accident with little more than a smashed-up leg and a bump to his head. Oh... and a complete lack of memory when it comes to his son...

**Word Count:** 1425

**Notes:** This was written for a prompt on the Glee angst meme (community. livejournal. com/glee_angst_?thread=2555641#t2555641). My muse is apparently incapable of writing short fills.

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**FORGET ME NOT**

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Finn was the only one watching the game out of the four of them. It was a sure sign of how upset Kurt was that he was allowing Finn complete control over the channels. The smaller boy wasn't even looking at the TV. He had his chair drawn up to his dad's bedside and was bent almost in half, his head pillowed on his arms, both of his hands curled around Burt's larger one. There was a crumpled look about him, like he was about to burst into tears at any minute, but his eyes were dry as he stared resolutely at his father's unmoving face. Occasionally, he took an extra-deep breath, almost a sigh, but each time Finn glanced across the bed at him, Kurt was still holding himself together.

Finn's mom sat beside Finn, near Burt's head. She was knitting something that would probably end up as a scarf (she kept saying she was knitting sweaters or socks or whatever, but always just ended up making scarves). Every few stitches, she would look over at Burt to check for any sign of awareness.

Finn really did like Burt. The man had stepped up and filled the empty 'father' slot in his life even better than Mr. Schu (and Finn felt a little guilty even just _thinking _that), but Burt just got things that Mr. Schu didn't. Finn wasn't sure if Mr. Schu would ever punish him for anything. He had no doubts where he stood with Burt. The older man would call him out on his crap, and he even kicked Finn out of the house once for talking bad to Kurt. Finn glanced to the smaller boy again, watching Kurt close his eyes, his lashes a dark smudge on an ashen face, as he took another one of those too-deep breaths. Saving Kurt from bullies while wearing a red rubber shower curtain had won him the other boy's adoration once more, but it was muted now. Kurt looked at Finn like he'd hung the moon again... but the scary obsessive love was gone. Most of the time now, when it was just the two of them, Kurt would get this tired look in his eyes just behind the affection.

Finn suspected Kurt's renewed adoration had gone a long way toward winning Burt over again. Burt spoiled Kurt something awful, a fact Finn had learned once he moved in, but he'd also seen just how much Kurt did in return for his dad. Finn couldn't be jealous of Kurt's clothing budget, or his fancy Navigator (which he currently did not possess the keys for—Burt had confiscated them for some reason or another which neither Hummel talked about, but which made Kurt eye his baby sadly as he climbed into Finn's truck for rides to school), or his kick-ass basement bachelor pad. Burt was just as generous with Finn when Finn was behaving himself. When he had gone to the garage to talk to Burt about the faggy comments, Burt had rewarded him for manning up and taking responsibility and making an effort to change by gifting him with a 2005 Chevy Colorado extended cab. It had been used and busted up, sold to Burt for spare parts, but Burt had pointed out that with a bit of work, she'd be better than new. Part of Finn's 'punishment' for his words had been to repair that truck over the summer, something Kurt helped him out with. Finn realized about halfway through the work that it wasn't even really punishment—if he could put his truck together, he could fix it when something went wrong. Kurt actually _cheered _for him the first time he changed a tire.

So Finn _liked _Burt. And he was worried for the man lying unconscious in the hospital bed—a car accident (in which Burt was an innocent passenger) had landed him here, with his leg broken in three places and a cracked skull—but Finn couldn't bring himself to watch Burt non-stop like Kurt was doing. He got bored far too easily. The doctors had said Burt would likely be just fine, once he woke up, and would probably be able to be discharged that very day. Kurt refused to take them on their word and wanted to hear it from his dad's own lips.

"Staring at him won't make him wake up any faster," Finn told Kurt.

"Shut up," Kurt snapped back, his fingers tightening around his dad's hand. "You'd be doing the same if it were Carole."

"Boys," Carole admonished quietly. "We're all stressed, but everything will be fine. Burt should be waking up soon, and then we'll be able to take him home."

Kurt heaved another one of his deep breaths and Finn looked back to the game. Duke was winning. Burt would've hated that.

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Burt woke up just over two hours later. Finn was stretched out on the couch in the room, dozing, while Carole continued to knit. Kurt continued to stare, and he was the first to notice the flicker of movement across Burt's face. "Dad?"

Finn stirred, rolling onto his side to watch Kurt lift his head, the crumpledness fading into a hopeful look as Burt scrunched up his own face with a groan. Finn grinned, hopping off the couch and coming up beside Burt, reaching out to take his other hand as Carole set her knitting aside, squeezing Burt's shoulder.

Burt opened his pale eyes slowly, eyes sliding from one face to another. They settled on Finn, and he smiled a little, twitching the fingers of his left hand in something that was probably meant to be a squeeze. "Finn..." he murmured. "Good to see you..."

"Good to see you too, sir!" Finn couldn't help the 'sir' that slipped out, making Burt chuckle a little as Finn grinned at the older man in relief.

"And Carole..." Burt shifted, tugging his right hand out of Kurt's grasp to reach up and pat Carole's hand on his shoulder. "Worried I wouldn't see _you _again, for a minute there..."

"Dad..." Kurt clearly didn't like being out of contact with his father, reaching forward to catch Burt's elbow gently, his fingers smoothing over the bare skin there. Finn turned his grin on Kurt: he could practically _feel _Kurt's relief. But Kurt only had eyes for his dad. Finn supposed he couldn't really blame him.

Burt glanced over at Kurt, the faint smile on his face fading a little as he locked eyes with his son, before he turned back to Carole and Finn on his left without even a word for Kurt, shifting his arm away from Kurt's fingers.

It was like Burt had slapped him. Finn watched the relief slid straight off Kurt's face, chased away by the look of pure horror Finn had only ever seen once before on Kurt Hummel's face, and that was when Carole had called to tell them 'there's been an accident. Come to the hospital.' Just like that first time, the horror was quickly locked away, but unlike that first time, Kurt was struggling to school his face into the neutral mask that meant he wasn't happy. Finn could see all of the normally-private boy's emotions play across his face: shock, hurt, fear...

"Dad?" Kurt whispered, stretching out his hand again, his fingertips just brushing against Burt's arm before Kurt drew back his hand.

Again, Burt looked at Kurt blankly. Finn watched Kurt's throat bob as he swallowed, and he knew the way Kurt was pressing his lips together meant that he was on the verge of tears, just like that time in their room.

"I'm sorry," Burt said after a moment. "Who are you, again?"

"I'm _Kurt_..." Yep. Kurt was definitely about to cry. Finn could hear it in his voice, the little hitch in his normally-perfect pronunciation. "I'm your _son_..."

Burt still looked blank as he studied Kurt before he turned to Carole. "Did you know I had a son?"

"Burt..." Carole glanced over at Kurt worriedly, then down at Burt. "Of course I did... Kurt introduced us, don't you remember?"

Finn watched Kurt's hands shake as they lifted to press against his mouth, the legs of his chair protesting against the linoleum as he pushed away from the bed. "Kurt," Carole said, glancing his way, but Kurt was just shaking his head now, on his feet, backing away, his eyes wide and glistening with tears above his fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

Six chapters for this fic, and they'll go like this:

Finn's POV

Kurt's

Finn's

Kurt's

Burt's

Kurt's.

Just so you know. ^_^

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**FORGET ME NOT **

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Selective retrograde amnesia. No guaranteed cure, but time usually helped. Familiar settings usually helped. Familiar faces. Therapy might.

Kurt didn't feel any better for knowing what was wrong with his father. Burt's memory was nearly flawless. He didn't remember much of the accident, but that was expected, the doctors assured them. What wasn't expected was the complete surgical removal of Kurt from Burt's life. He remembered Kurt's mother just fine, remembered her death, remembered the house. He remembered the shop and could run through all the steps on how to rebuild an engine. He didn't remember meeting Carole at a PTA meeting, but he remembered Glee, because Finn was in it (The lead male, the star, so proud of you, son!). Kurt flung a jar of cream across his room, watching it smash against the cinderblock walls.

"Baby, breaking things won't bring your dad back." Mercedes was on the phone with him. Kurt had it set on speaker, sitting on the vanity beside him. "_Please _tell me that wasn't your Crème de la stuff's _expensive_!"

"It wasn't," Kurt said, letting his forehead drop to his vanity beside the phone. "Just the L'Occitane."

"That stuff's not cheap either," Mercedes pointed out, earning herself a groan from Kurt.

"_Forget _the cream, 'Cedes! My dad doesn't even _look _at me anymore!"

Burt had been home from the hospital for two days now, and they were the most awkward two days Kurt had ever spent in his own home, even more than the first morning Kurt spent with Finn in their shared room, both of them staring and trying not to stare at the other's bed-head and post-shower looks. At least Carole had convinced Burt that Kurt really was his son that he simply didn't remember, due to the accident. Burt had stopped questioning why Kurt lived with them after seeing a recent family photo of the four of them together. Still, when he did glance Kurt's way now, there was suspicion in his eyes, an inability to believe that he had a son he remembered _absolutely nothing _of.

"_Why _can't he remember me?" Kurt asked. "I mean, he remembers _nothing_. Not a single damn thing!" He kicked angrily, wincing when that drove his toe into the wall. Ow. _Ow._ Stupid wall for being too close. Kurt drew his leg up to rub his sore foot, rolling his head to the side to look at the phone. "Was I really that unimportant to him?" His voice sounded so small, even to his own ears, not like him at all.

"Oh honey, you know your daddy loves you."

"_Loved_," Kurt corrected. "He barely even remembers my _name _now. He loves _Finn_. Perfect, fucking, _Finn_." Burt remembered _everything _about Finn. He remembered Finn's jersey number and season statistics. He remembered all the songs Finn practiced for Glee, and he remembered helping Finn fix up his truck. He remembered presenting Finn with his own personalized coveralls, and he remembered Finn's favorite color and Finn's favorite food and everything Finn had ever told him about Finn's own dad.

He didn't remember that he had searched through six stores for sensible heels in a size seven for his son before giving up and buying him a truck for his third birthday, or sitting through Riverdance three times. He didn't remember keeping Kurt home from school on days when his wife's death was too much for him to handle alone, or watching Kurt kick a winning field goal (or sing a cheerleading team to a victory at Nationals). He didn't remember Kurt at all, but he called Finn 'son' like the boy had been born to it.

"Kurt... okay, babe, that's it. We're going out." Mercedes' concern was morphing into determination. "Dress yourself up, boy, because we're going _shopping_. If you're so upset that you're using words like 'fucking' in a completely non-sexual context, you are in _dire _need of some retail therapy. And some new moisturizer, since it sounded like you just decorated your walls with yours. So put on your boots and meet me at Macy's in fifteen minutes. I will _not _take no for an answer."

Kurt smiled weakly, pushing his head off his vanity. "Okay," he whispered. "Thanks, 'Cedes."

"I always know how to make my boy feel better," Mercedes said. "See you soon."

Shopping with Mercedes meant a whole wardrobe change was necessary. Shopping clothes were different from normal clothes, because shopping clothes had to both look fabulous and be easily removable without mussing up your hair or taking too long to replace. You simply _couldn't _shop without trying things on. And layers were needed too, in case you found a shirt that needed to go over (or under) another shirt. No ties on the shoes, either. No hat, but shades were okay.

Kurt changed quickly, checked his appearance in the mirror, and blew himself a kiss before heading up the stairs. Carole was out, picking up a few groceries, but Finn was in the backyard and Burt was watching TV in the living room. He hesitated a moment before stepping just inside, knocking on the open door. "Dad?"

Burt glanced Kurt's way before doing a double-take, frowning a little at Kurt's choice of clothes. Kurt just lifted his chin a little, unconsciously adopting the attitude he wore when facing down his bullies. "I'm heading out for a bit. Can I borrow your car?" It would be quicker to tell Burt than to go all the way out back to find Finn, and Kurt preferred Burt's car over Finn's truck anyway.

"Where are you going?"

"The mall," Kurt answered. "With Mercedes. I'll be home by ten."

Burt's eyes narrowed a little, his once-over of Kurt very slow and deliberate. "And what are you _wearing_?"

Kurt glanced down at his clothes, then back at his dad. "Largely Alexander McQueen..." Perhaps it was a bit flamboyant, even for him, but Kurt had felt the need for peppiness in his outfit, since he couldn't muster any for his attitude.

"Is that some sort of code for _faggy_?" Burt asked with a hint of a growl to his voice. Kurt felt his heart plummet to his knees. "Because no self-respecting son of mineis going out in public dressed like some queer-ass homo. Go back to your room and put some proper clothes on, for once."

Forget his knees. Kurt's heart dropped completely through the floor, the whole world suddenly silent except for a weird ringing in his ears. His jaw had dropped open, but he couldn't find the strength to shut it any more than he could find the control to stop the tears suddenly flooding his eyes. Faggy. Queer. Homo. They were just words, words flung at him thousands of times before, but _never _from his dad. Never from his dad's mouth, never in his dad's voice, never matched with such disgust in his dad's eyes... The same discomfort Burt had been showing all these past few days, that look of someone in far over his head and still trying to swim, was back on Burt's face, and Kurt found himself unable to breathe. He turned and fled the room, bolting blindly, just needing to get _out _and get _away._


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday, August 22 2010, just after noon at RiverTown Crossings Mall in Grandville, MI, outside of Barnes and Noble, we will be having a MI Gleeky meet-up. If anyone's in the area, that is...

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**FORGET ME NOT**

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When Finn came inside, the phone rang. He frowned at it, looking around, wondering if someone had been watching him to time things perfectly, but on the third ring, he just gave a shrug and picked up the handset. "Hello?"

"Finn?" It was Mercedes on the other end of the line, and Finn immediately started toward the basement room he shared with Kurt.

"You want to talk to Kurt?"

"Is he still there? Ugh, I told that boy to meet me here over half an hour ago! I've been calling his cell, but he won't answer."

"Where are you?" Finn asked, flipping on the light. "Kurt! Mercedes' on the phone!"

"I'm at the mall," Mercedes said. "I _told _him to meet me at our usual spot, but he's not here. And I've scoured all of Macy's and the surrounding stores, but he hasn't gotten distracted. If he's trying to perfect an outfit, give him a smack for me."

Finn frowned, looking around the empty room. Nothing seemed out of place (except the face goop slowly oozing down the wall over his bed, but that was actually fairly common now that Burt was home and ignoring Kurt). "Huh. Looks like he's gone. Hang on, I'll check upstairs."

Kurt wasn't upstairs. Burt told him that Kurt had said he was going out to meet Mercedes at the mall, but none of the cars were gone. "Uh... Mercedes?" Finn looked around the garage worriedly. "Kurt's not here. But he didn't take a car..."

"He's missing?" Mercedes' sharp question was laced with concern, and Finn nodded against the phone.

"Yeah, looks that way..."

"He was really upset about his dad. His gloom's been getting worse, haven't you noticed?"

"He's been hiding in our room all the time," Finn said. "Sometimes, he even _skips meals_." Finn honestly couldn't imagine being so upset that he couldn't eat. Even when he'd found out that Puck had been the father of baby Driz-baby _Beth_, he still had an appetite.

"Exactly," Mercedes said. "Finn, I'm worried. It's not like him to stand me up on a shopping date, especially not when he's feeling cruddy and needs the high. Can _you _try calling him? Maybe he's ignoring me... or... crap, he'd probably ignore you too. Okay, can you call all the other guys in Glee, and I'll call the girls, and between us, we have to find _someone _whose call he'll answer..."

Except they didn't. Another hour later, and Mercedes was reporting that Kurt wasn't responding to anyone, sending group texts to all their Glee-mates.

_We need 2 find him. T a, ur at the mall 2. We can search here. Ne1 else no where he might b?_

_His dads shop_, Finn replied. Puck claimed that, as he wasn't too far away already.

Santana, Brittany, and Quinn offered to check out the school, all the places Cheerios might hang out, as they were there doing some extra work on a new routine. Rachel volunteered to scour the music shops, while Mike and Matt said they could wander through downtown Lima. That left Finn to search parks around the Hudmel home, anyplace Kurt might have wandered to on foot. He left his mom a message for when she returned home, asking her to stay and call if Kurt came home without telling anyone.

Slowly, the reports filtered in through texts. No one was having any luck, but everyone was spamming Kurt's voicemail and inbox with messages and calls. No response. No response. No response. It was like he had died or something.

Died.

Finn smacked his hand against his head and fired off a quick text to the group. _1 mor place 2 look_

Died, like Kurt's mom. The cemetery was a bit far to walk to from the Hudmel house, but not impossible. Still, Finn grabbed his truck (his mom looked worried, said that Kurt hadn't come home and Burt had hinted that Kurt had run off in tears) and took off, praying to his own dad. _I know he's not your son, but he's kinda my brother, and so if you could just sit with him and keep him safe and help me find him... that'd be really nice. Please. We're worried..._

Finn had gone with Kurt on Mother's Day to his mom's grave, and Kurt had accompanied Finn on Father's Day to the war memorial in the cemetery (it just wasn't the same, visiting his dad's urn). Finn knew the general location of Mrs. Hummel's plot, but it was a lot harder to find in the quickly fading dusk.

"Kurt!" he called, wandering through the headstones, his hands tucked in the pockets of his letter jacket. "Kurt, _please _be out here! Everyone's looking for you!"

He actually stumbled over Kurt quite literally, tripping over Kurt's legs in the dark and hitting the ground with an _oomph_. His first thought was _Holy fuck, zombies!_, but Kurt's voice whispering a hoarse 'sorry' from behind calmed his racing heart.

"Jesus, dude! Don't sneak up on a guy in a graveyard like that!" Finn sat up, dusting off his hands and turning to look. In the fading light, it couldn't be more obvious that Kurt wasn't trying to sneak up on anyone. He was huddled against his mother's tombstone, sitting on the dirty ground, completely ignoring the grass stains on the legs of his white pants or the way his face was all pink and blotchy and wet, or how when he hugged himself and shivered, he looked impossibly small.

Kurt met Finn's eyes for a moment before squeezing his own shut again. He slurped in a breath, scrubbing his sleeve over his nose, and pulled his legs up a little closer. Finn glanced around, shivering a little himself as the odd light cast weird shadows on and from all the statues and graves. "Kurt... you haven't been answering your phone." He shuffled a little closer to Kurt, reaching out and touching Kurt's hand. The smaller boy snatched it away, but Finn could feel that his fingers were cold. Of course they were. Kurt had run out into the late fall without a jacket.

"Look," Finn said, already pulling his own jacket off—he had a thick sweater on underneath. He could tough out the cold. "Your dad's going to remember you eventually. He's going to see a therapist tomorrow, remember? Everything's going to work out. This is only temporary. It's gonna be okay, Kurt."

"My dad is _dead_," Kurt choked out, falling forward as Finn pulled him away from the cold granite tombstone so he could drape his jacket around Kurt's shoulders. "He's _dead_, Finn, he's _gone,_ and he's never coming back. It's _not _okay; it's never going to _be _okay!" And Kurt was sobbing now, heavy, heaving cries that made his whole body shake as he laid over his knees, crumpled like some broken doll.

"He-he's not dead..." Finn stammered, his hands hovering uselessly above Kurt's back. How the hell was he supposed to deal with the unflappable Kurt Hummel completely falling apart? He'd only seen Kurt cry once before, _really _cry, and not just tear up over a really good song, and that had been when he'd called Kurt's things faggy. But even that had been a silent cry, Kurt's face crumpling and his arms hugged around him protectively, and his lip trembling... that wasn't _anything _like this. On a scale of one to ten for Kurt having a break down, that had maybe been a _three_, while this was a _fifty billion. _"Your dad's not dead, Kurt. He's at home, with Mom. I'm sure he would've come after you himself, if he didn't have that busted leg. Come on. Let's go home, where it's warm..."

"He called me faggy," Kurt whispered to his knees. "Queer-ass. Homo." His voice broke on the last word, another sob wracking his body, and Finn dropped his hands, spreading them out over Kurt's thin back. "I don't _have _a home, Finn. Not anymore. Not with _him_." Finn could barely make out Kurt's words through his crying. "My dad is dead. My mom is dead. My whole family is _gone_. I don't have any-"

As the sobs ate Kurt's words, Finn smoothed his hands over Kurt's back, tucking the jacket around his sides and reaching beneath his waist to pull him up, manipulating Kurt into slumping against him instead of his cold knees, wrapping his arms around Kurt to tuck him in close to his chest. He wasn't sure how to go about comforting Kurt, but whenever Finn was upset, a big hug from his mother went a long way to making things better. Kurt's mother was in a box beneath them, and Finn's mother wasn't here, so Finn had to do the hug-giving himself. He also had to think _very carefully _about what he was going to say, because he had a feeling that the wrong word could make things a lot worse than they already were.

"I'm not gone," Finn said quietly, trying to rub some warmth back into Kurt's arms. "And Mom's not gone. Aren't we your family now too?" It felt like Kurt shook his head, but it was hard to tell with how Kurt was pressed up against him and just shaking in general, so Finn continued on. "And the whole Glee Club's been out in force looking for you. Aren't they your family too? Mercedes especially. You know she'll come out here to shank someone if you turned up dead or something like that." Was that a laugh from Kurt? Finn smiled, squeezing Kurt. "We can't stay here all night, Kurt. It's getting late, and it's only going to get colder, and we only have one jacket between us."

"I can't go back," Kurt whispered, his head drooping even further against Finn's chest. "Not back to... back to _him_. I can't...!"

Aaaaand the tears were starting again. Finn made a face up at the sky—just when he thought he'd calmed Kurt down a little!—and rubbed Kurt's arm. "You don't have to. You've got more family than just him, remember? Don't you spend the night with Mercedes all the time? I'll drive you over to her place, and you can stay there tonight, and I'll talk to Mom, and we'll figure something out, okay?" When he got no response, he nudged Kurt. "_Okay_, Kurt?"

Kurt's nod was weak, and his "Okay" even smaller, but it was good enough for Finn. He grinned in relief, unwrapping himself from Kurt and pushing himself to his feet before holding out his hands for the smaller boy. Kurt blinked up at him, his eyes all red and puffy, his body completely swallowed up by the bright red of Finn's jacket, before slowly raising his hands to take Finn's, letting the taller boy pull him to his feet. Finn draped his arm around Kurt's shoulders as Kurt held the edges of his jacket closed, guiding their stumbling feet back to his truck.

Once inside, Finn turned the heater on full blast and looked over at Kurt, who had buckled up and promptly huddled against the door, looking even more miserable now that there was light from the cab lamps to show just how much dirt and tears marred his usually pristine appearance. Finn reached over and tousled Kurt's hair, smiling a little at the dark look Kurt shot him. "Okay. I think I remember where Mercedes lives, so while I'm taking you there, you gotta text _everyone_ in Glee, even Mr. Schu, and Mom, and let them all know you're not dead, okay? And tell Mercedes we're coming."

Kurt nodded mutely, digging in his pocket for his phone. Finn almost laughed when he saw the bug-eyed look Kurt gave the screen when he saw how many missed messages he had, and then the tiny little smile as Kurt began composing an 'I'm not dead' response to all of them. "See," Finn said, maneuvering his truck out of the cemetery. "You've got loads of people who care about you still. Just because your dad has a brain injury doesn't mean you're on your own, Kurt."

"It's always been us against the world." Kurt's voice sounded more normal now, less tearful and more stable. "After Mom died... he'd always try to protect me. From everything. I never..." Finn glanced sideways, watching Kurt wipe his fingers under his eyes, brushing away fresh tears. "I never thought I'd hear _those _words from _his _mouth, directed _at _me..."

Finn opened and closed his mouth a couple times, discarding different things to say, before he reached over and just squeezed Kurt's shoulder. "You're right," he said quietly. "That guy who said those things isn't your dad. But your dad's not _dead_, Kurt. He's just... away. Yeah. He's away right now. But he'll come home, and kick that guy out, because you _know _Burt Hummel doesn't tolerate _anyone _talking crap to his kid. Not even himself."

Kurt said nothing in response, just ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut, one hand sliding up to grip Finn's fingers gratefully.


	4. Chapter 4

Soo... for anyone interested and in the area, Sunday, August 22, 2010, Gleeks are meeting outside of Barnes and Noble at the Rivertown Crossings Mall in Grandville, MI. If you can make it, give me a poke BEFORE... oh... 10 AM? and I'll try to get you my contact number so we don't miss you.

Also, the term 'Glocks' needs to take over the world, just like Gleerios.

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**FORGET ME NOT**

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The moment Finn pulled into the Jones' driveway (after getting lost and needing Kurt to pay attention to direct him), Mercedes flung the door open and came running out of her house. She reached the side of the truck just as Kurt finished unbuckling and flung the door open. "Oh _Kurt_!"

Kurt wiped his sleeve over his face, offering Mercedes a weak smile. "Sorry for running off like that…"

Mercedes just shook her head, taking Kurt's hands and drawing him out of the truck before hugging him. "Baby, you look like _hell_."

Kurt closed his eyes, hugging Mercedes back, his hands swallowed by the sleeves of Finn's jacket. "_Feel _like hell," he whispered.

"Hey." Finn came around the side of the truck, rubbing his hands together. "Mind if we go inside? It's cold out here…"

Mercedes' home smelled like fresh apple pie, and Kurt had to smile as Finn just perked right up. Mrs. Jones came out from the kitchen, making a beeline for Kurt. Mercedes let him go as her mother swept Kurt up in a hug, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Oh, baby, Mercedes's been telling us what's going on with your daddy."

"It got worse today," Finn said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking awkwardly at the Jones women. "Burt, um… he… said some stuff."

"Kurt?"

The first time Kurt had come over to the Jones' home, Mercedes had introduced him to her family as her 'gay friend' (much to his awkwardness). But neither of her parents had seemed to mind, and both had welcomed Kurt into their home as Mercedes' best friend. He was even allowed to be alone with her in her room with the door closed, or to fall asleep in her bed when spending the night. Kurt knew that if anyone outside his family would understand why he had reacted so poorly to his father's words, it would be the Joneses.

"He called me a fag," Kurt whispered, closing his eyes. "Queer. Homo."

"_Burt _said that!" Mercedes was pushing into the hug to grab Kurt. "No wonder you want to spend the night…"

"I'm… going to talk to Mom tonight," Finn said. "Dunno what we're going to do, but…"

"Don't worry," Mrs. Jones said, stroking her hand over Kurt's cheek before stepping back. "We've got a spare room. Kurt, you're welcome to stay as long as you need. But first, both of you boys, come on. The pie's still warm, and you both look like you could use some sweet."

"Thanks, Mrs. Jones!" Finn said, a grin splitting his face. Kurt smiled weakly, wiping at his eyes again.

"I'll be there in a minute," he said quietly. "I'd like to just…" he gestured at his face. Mercedes smiled knowingly, linking her arm through Kurt's.

"Ben left some stuff behind when he went to college. Nothing fabulous, I'm afraid, but it'll do for tonight. Let's get you cleaned up…"

Kurt washed his face off while Mercedes went to find a replacement for Kurt's filthy outfit. He refused to even glance at the mirror, not wanting to see the evidence of how much his father's words had hurt.

"Boo…" Mercedes set some worn clothes on the vanity beside Kurt, rubbing his back. "You okay?"

Kurt closed his eyes and shook his head. "It feels like my dad's dead, Mercedes. He's dead, and there's this… this _stranger_ in his body."

Mercedes didn't offer Kurt any empty words of comfort, just a silent hug. Kurt swallowed several times, refusing to start crying again. "I can't go back there," he whispered into Mercedes' shoulder.

"You heard Mom," Mercedes murmured, rubbing Kurt's back. "You can stay in Ben's room as long as you need. And if you're still here when he comes home for Christmas…" She shrugged. "You can room with me then, or something. We'll work it out."

"Thank you, 'Cedes." Kurt took a deep breath and drew back, wiping his eyes again. "Love you…"

"Aw, baby. I love you too." Mercedes squeezed Kurt's arm and smiled. "I'll let you get changed now, before Finn eats all of Mom's pie."

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* * *

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As soon as Kurt walked into the kitchen, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and faded cotton pants (thank god for drawstrings, or they'd be hanging around his knees), Mrs. Jones was pushing him into a seat and placing a big slice of pie in front of him. "Ice cream?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no-" Kurt lifted his hand in an automatic refusal of the extra calories, hesitated, then dropped it and gave a small nod. "Actually… yes please. Thank you."

Mrs. Jones smiled approvingly, putting a big scoop on Kurt's slice. She always did say that she thought Kurt was too skinny for his own good.

Finn was already halfway through his second slice of pie, though he stopped eating to give Kurt a reassuring smile. "You feeling better?" he asked.

"I'm feeling _warmer_," Kurt said, holding out Finn's jacket. "Thank you for that…"

"You're looking better," Finn said, taking the jacket and setting it in his lap so he could return to his pie.

"I look like shit," Kurt muttered, picking up his fork. Mrs. Jones' apple pie was one of the few desserts he never complained about eating. It tasted too good to worry about what it would do to his body.

Mrs. Jones' hands settled on Kurt's shoulders, and he felt her press another kiss to the top of his head. "You eat your pie, baby, and then you get some sleep. It's been a very long day."

"Burt's going to the therapist tomorrow," Finn said, scraping up the last crumbs of his pie. "I was thinking… if you're going to be staying here a while, maybe you could come by tomorrow while he's out to get some clothes and stuff. So you don't have to talk to him. I can give you a ride…"

"Thank you, Finn," Kurt said quietly, taking a bite of his pie. "That should work."

Kurt cried himself to sleep in Mercedes' arms that night, and the next day, she and Finn helped him pack up an emergency portion of his wardrobe so he could exist at Mercedes' without tipping off the whole school that he wasn't living at home anymore. Kurt didn't want to think of what Karofsky or the other jocks would do if they learned that. He _really _didn't want any jibes about how his dad kicked him out of the house or something: he wasn't sure he'd be able to get through that without bursting into tears again.

Finn swung by to give both Kurt and Mercedes a ride in to school on Monday. Kurt made it all the way to his locker without attracting any unwanted attention, but when he closed the door and turned, he saw Azimio coming straight at him with a slushie.

"_No_." From behind him, Puck stormed down the hall, catching the bottom of Azimio's slushie with his hand and driving it up to splash onto Azimio's own face. "Hummel's off-limits, dude."

"The _fuck_!" Azimio spluttered through the slushie, snarling at Puck. "You're protecting that fag?"

"A-yup," Puck said with a smirk, folding his arms and staring Azimio down. "Off-limits for the rest of the week. No… off-limits until we say otherwise."

"We?"

"_We._" Finn came up behind Azimio, Mike and Matt on either side of him. "So lay off my brother, okay?"

Even an idiot like Azimio could understand the math of four-on-one, so, with slushie dripping from his face, he chose to retreat rather than put up a fight. Puck nodded, turning to Kurt with a smug smile on his face. "So, Hummel, until your dad's better, you've got the Glocks at your back."

"_Glocks_?" Kurt asked, finding his voice after that unexpected scene.

Finn shrugged. "Matt heard Brittany calling all you Glee and Cheerio people 'Gleerios,' so we figured Glee and jocks mixed into Glocks."

"I can approve of being called a gun," Puck said, slinging his arm around Kurt's shoulders. "You okay, Hummel?"

Kurt nodded a little, looking between the four Gle- four _Glocks_, swallowing thickly. "Yeah. Yes. Thank you…"


	5. Chapter 5

The wonderful NiniBlack has gifted me with an illustration for this chapter! It's B+W right now, but she's promised me a color version. Check it out here: http:/ /i2. photobucket. com/ albums/ y6/ FantismalSpider/ Illustrations/ FMNDivaKurtbyNini. jpg

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**FORGET ME NOT**

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It had been just over a month since his accident, and exactly one month since Burt had last seen Kurt. The older Hummel sat in his recliner, his casted leg propped up on the leg rest, skimming through the newspaper. His heart wasn't in it, though, and his mind kept drifting back to his son. He had only known Kurt for a few days, but those few days had given him a very bad taste in his mouth.

Burt, to put it simply, felt guilty. He was not at all happy that the boy was flaming stronger than a rocket engine, but… Kurt was his _son_. And he might not like the kid, but no father was supposed to put that completely destroyed expression on his child's face. Kurt had actually run away, and from what Carole had told Burt, this was a first for the boy.

Burt had tried to make amends, but he didn't know Kurt well enough to know what would fix things for sure. He had told Finn to pass along the message that if Kurt came home, Burt would refrain from insulting his clothes again, but Kurt had sent a politely-worded refusal back. And that had been the last Burt had heard from Kurt.

"Scoot over." Carole sat on the arm of the recliner, nudging Burt with her elbow. He smiled, folding the paper and setting it aside, making room beside him for Carole to join him in the large chair. "Look what I found! I've been tearing the house apart looking for these." In her hands was a stack of photo albums.

"Are these yours?" Burt asked, wrapping one arm around Carole's waist as he reached for the albums.

"Nope," Carole said. "They're yours. That's why I didn't know where they were." She smiled, opening the first album and flipping through a few pages. "Look here… as far as I can tell, this is the very first picture of Kurt ever."

Burt smiled a little, running his finger along the image of his first wife, her arms folded around a baby bump in the front of her dress.

"Do you remember her being pregnant?" Carole asked quietly.

Burt nodded slowly. "I… I do, actually. She was so worried—no morning sickness. She thought that meant there was something wrong with the baby…"

Carole smiled, draping her arm around Burt's shoulders. "That sounds like Kurt, though. Not wanting to inconvenience the ones he loves…"

"We didn't want to know his gender," Burt said, slowly turning the pages of the album, watching as his wife's stomach swelled in each successive picture. "She was so sure we were having a little girl, a little princess…"

"Also like Kurt," Carole murmured. "Oh!" She pointed at a picture taken in the hospital, the proud Hummel parents holding their newest member. "He was so tiny!"

"Five pounds, three ounces," Burt answered distantly.

"You _do _remember!" Carole pressed a kiss to Burt's cheek. "Finn was _massive_. Dear lord. Eight pounds even, and he hasn't stopped growing."

Burt remembered people and places in most of the photos, but his memories of Kurt continued to be just out of his grasp. Carole continued flipping through the pages slowly, drawing attention to Kurt whenever she could. At a photo of his birthday party, though (third birthday, from the candles on his cake), she burst out laughing. Kurt was in the middle of the photo, wrapping paper half torn off a toy truck, and he was looking at the camera with an unmistakable, _Bitch, what _is_ this! _expression on his face. "What is _that _all about?" she asked, tapping the photo.

_Kurt's face was so earnest as he stared up at his father, twisting his fingers together. Burt finished reading Kurt's birthday wish list and looked down at his son. "There's only one thing on here."_

_Kurt nodded, opening his eyes as wide as he could and jutting out his lower lip. "It's all I want!"_

"_Kentsabull heels?"_

"_Sensible," Kurt said, correcting Burt's phonetic pronunciation of Kurt's written 'centsabul.' "Like Mommy's black Prada pumps!"_

"_Why is there only one thing on your list?"_

"_It's all I want!" Burt gave Kurt a daddy-look, and Kurt sighed, his shoulders slumping. "'Cause if I give you lots of things, you won't get me everything, and I really really really really really really _really_ want some pretty shoes that don't hurt my feet!"_

_Burt sighed and ruffled Kurt's hair. "Well, we'll see."_

_Burt ended up going to six stores, staring at the tiny shoes for little girls and wondering what, exactly, Kurt would consider 'sensible.' Really, why couldn't Kurt's _mother_ have done this? She knew what a sensible shoe was._

"_Excuse me, miss," Burt said, turning to a saleslady and holding up a white size-seven dress shoe with a chunky half-inch heel. "Would you consider this sensible?"_

"_Well, what's the occasion?" the saleslady asked. "Is she going to a party, or to church, or…"_

"_Uh… he just wants it for his birthday." Burt looked at the shoe, then shoved it back on the shelf. "Never mind."_

_Kurt got a toy truck for his birthday, one with an engine you could open up and take apart with the plastic tools. Kurt liked pretending to be a mechanic sometimes, so surely he'd enjoy the truck._

_Kurt had not been amused by the lack of sensible heels among his gifts, and the truck had left him scowling._

"_Sweetheart, are you enjoying your party?" his mother asked, setting a slice of chocolate cake in front of Kurt's crossed arms._

"_NO!" Kurt snapped, shoving the cake away. "I didn't get ANYTHING I wanted!"_

"_Not for lack of trying," Burt grumbled. "Kurt… tell you what, kiddo. Put a smile on your face, eat your cake, and after your party, the three of us can go out and pick out some sensible heels, so they're exactly what you want."_

_Kurt eyed Burt warily. "You _promise_?"_

"_I promise," Burt sighed. He was rewarded by an immediate bright smile as Kurt grabbed for his cake, shoving a huge forkful into his mouth._

"_My son is a fag," Burt groaned as he helped his wife clean up after the party. She turned sharply, slamming a stack of plates on the counter._

"_Burt Hummel, don't you _ever _say that word again!" She advanced on her husband, pressing one finger against Burt's chest. "Kurt is our _son_!"_

"_And our son is a… is gay." Burt ran his hand over his head. "Face it. All he wanted for his birthday was a pair of 'sensible heels.' He's a fairy."_

"_He's _three_. It's a little early to tell, I think." She put her hands on her hips, frowning at Burt. "But you know what, Burt? It doesn't matter if he's gay or just a transvestite. It doesn't matter if he grows up to love girls or boys or monkeys. The moment he was born, we became his parents, and as his parents we have one job, just one. We are meant to _love _him, Burt, just how he is." She sighed, turning back to the plates, turning the faucet on to rinse the chocolate off. "If he's gay, or even just a transvestite, he's going to get a lot of hate, Burt. We're his parents. It's not our job to add to that."_

_Burt sighed, loading the rinsed plates into the dishwasher. "But if he's gay-"_

"_Then at least it's more socially acceptable than fucking monkeys." Burt sighed as his wife came up behind him, rubbing his shoulders. "He's our little Kurt, Burt. If he's gay, if he's straight…"_

"_If he's a monkey-fucker…"_

_She smiled, kissing the back of his neck. "Whatever he is, he's our boy. He will always be our boy. And we will always love him. No matter what."_

"Oh god…" Burt reached up, pressing his fingers against his temples. "Carole… where is he? Kurt, where is Kurt?"

"Burt?" Carole rubbed the back of Burt's neck, frowning. "He's probably at Mercedes' home now…"

Burt remembered that third birthday party. It was the first (and last) time he had called Kurt a fag, until just last month. He remembered Kurt's first day of school, the first time Kurt came home in tears because someone had called him names that he didn't understand (but he knew they were bad), and the first time Kurt had changed a tire. He remembered so much about his son… and he remembered Kurt standing in the doorway just a month ago, his mouth open in horror, his eyes so raw and broken… "I need to talk to him." Burt struggled to sit up, trying to get out of the chair. "Carole… god, what have I _done_!"

"Burt, you can't walk yet!" Carole gently pushed Burt back into the chair, shaking her head. "What do you need?"

"Kurt," Burt said. "I need Kurt home. I need to apologize. I need to…" He closed his eyes, running his hand over his face. "God, will he even talk to me now? Carole, I _remember_…"


	6. Chapter 6

Final chapter! Thank you to EVERYONE who has reviewed this! If you sign your review, I will reply! If you don't sign it... well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do there. V_V

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**FORGET ME NOT**

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"I'll be in the kitchen," Finn said, squeezing Kurt's shoulder. "If you need to get out again, come and get me, don't just run away. I'll take you back to Mercedes."

Kurt nodded, staring at his front door. His dad was supposedly just inside, waiting for him. Carole had called yesterday to let him know Burt's memory had returned and Burt wanted to speak with him. _I'll come home with Finn after school tomorrow, _Kurt had answered automatically, before having a subdued freak out on Mercedes' bed.

_This is good!_ Mercedes had proclaimed. _Your dad's back!_

_But what if… _Kurt hadn't wanted to even voice all his doubts. What if Burt had meant what he'd said that one day? What if Burt remembered Kurt but no longer loved him? What if Burt _didn't _remember what he'd said?

Mercedes ended up making Kurt a mug of hot chocolate and making him watch _Sleeping Beauty _with her until he fell asleep on her shoulder.

At school, the Glocks had shadowed Kurt to keep him unbullied, as they had for the past month, and Kurt had stayed in Finn's truck after they dropped Mercedes off at her house. And now Kurt was standing outside his own home for the first time in a month, trying not to be terrified.

"It's going to be okay, though," Finn assured Kurt. "He really does remember you. And he's really upset about what he said."

"That doesn't mean it's going to be okay." Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be…"

Finn squeezed Kurt's shoulder one more time before opening the front door and holding it for Kurt. Kurt stepped inside warily, clutching the strap of his bag.

"Boys? That you?"

Kurt sucked in a breath at the sound of his father's voice, and Finn smiled at him reassuringly. "Yeah. How're you doing, Burt?" he asked, stepping into the living room. Kurt trailed after him, feeling out of place in his own home.

"Not bad," Burt answered. "Kurt with you?"

"I'm here," Kurt murmured, finding the floor fascinating. Finn clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'll be in the kitchen," he repeated before leaving the Hummels alone.

"Kurt…"

Kurt slowly lifted his eyes to meet his dad's, biting his lip. "You wanted to talk to me?" he whispered.

"I needed to talk to you. To apologize." Burt was sitting up in the recliner, looking just as nervous and unsure of the situation as Kurt felt. "Kurt… what I said to you was inexcusable. And I'm sorry. So sorry. You never…" He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. "When you were born, you had one job, Kurt. Just one. And I had one job. Just one. It was your job to be yourself, and my job to love you, no matter who that yourself was. And I failed."

"I don't know about that," Kurt murmured. "Brain damage is a pretty good excuse…"

Burt shook his head. "Not for hurting you, Kurt. Never for hurting you. Bad enough I couldn't remember you, but what I said was deliberately hateful."

Kurt licked his lips nervously, squeezing the strap of his bag. "But you meant it," he said quietly. "You didn't say it just to hurt me… you said it because you meant it. No son of yours was going to dress like I am… was." His outfit today was much tamer than that other one had been. His whole wardrobe at Mercedes' house was much more subdued. It was still top-label clothing, but Kurt had tried to tone down his flamboyancy, for his dad's sake. "Is that… is that how you've felt all this time? Please be honest," he continued quickly. "It's a bit late to spare my feelings now…"

Burt sighed. "You know I think your outfits are ridiculous," he said slowly. "But no more so than you think my flannel is a sin against Versace. You wear what you like; I wear what I like. And as long as you're not dressed indecently, I won't voice any more of a complaint against your clothes than you do against mine. That's always been our agreement."

Kurt gave a small nod, and Burt sighed, reaching out a hand toward his son. "Kurt, I love you. More than anything else on this planet."

"More than Finn?" The words slipped out without Kurt's permission, followed shortly by a look of mortification.

"_Way _more than Finn," Burt answered immediately. "More than Carole. More than the shop. Even more than your mother. And _certainly _more than my mild dislike of your clothing choices can negate. You are my _son_, Kurt. I love you. And I thank you."

"Thank me?" Kurt asked. "Thank me for what?"

"Forgetting you showed me what kind of man I'd be without you in my life. And I don't much like that man." Burt set his arm down, as Kurt had made no move toward him. "I'm a better man for having you, Kurt."

"It felt like you'd died," Kurt whispered. "Like you'd been replaced by some pod person. You were gone, and I didn't… I didn't know if you were ever coming back. If you really were gone for good, or if I should continue to hope… but you weren't my dad anymore." He reached up, hastily wiping away tears before they could roll down his cheeks. "It was like losing Mom all over again… only worse. Because you were still here and talking and looking alive, only… it wasn't _you_…"

"Come here, Kurt," Burt said quietly, stretching out his hand toward his son again.

This time, Kurt moved, crossing the room and all but falling into the chair. Burt wrapped his arms around Kurt, holding him close as he shook with repressed sobs.

"I'm here now," Burt said, talking into Kurt's hair as Kurt gripped his shirt in both hands, tucking himself into the gap between his father's body and the arm of the chair. "I remember you now. And I hope… I _hope _I never forget you again, but I can't promise that. But I _can _promise this." He brought one hand up to cup Kurt's face, one teary gaze meeting another. "No matter what happens to me or to you, I will _never _stop loving you. Even if I can't remember you, or you can't remember me. Even if I die, or, god forbid, _you _do."

"I missed you, Daddy," Kurt whispered, reaching up to mirror Burt's touch on his cheek.

"C'mere, kid," Burt said gruffly, crushing Kurt against his chest again. Kurt took a deep breath of flannel and motor oil and stopped fighting the tears.

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* * *

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It didn't take long before Burt realized that Kurt had actually fallen asleep on his chest, his fingers still closed tightly around the soft flannel of Burt's shirt, his cheek resting in the damp patch left by his tears. Burt reached up, gently stroking the smooth skin of Kurt's cheek. He was hardly an expert on makeup, but it looked like Kurt had tried to hide the dark circles under his eyes. Had Kurt slept at _all _this past month?

"Looks like he forgives you," Carole murmured, drawing Burt's attention.

Burt glanced up as Carole approached them with a blanket, tucking it in around Kurt's slumbering form. Burt smiled gratefully at her before letting his attention return to his son. "I don't know if he _forgives _me," he murmured, "but he certainly still cares."

"Of course he cares," Carole retorted. "He's your son. You're his father. And one moment of stupidity won't erase seventeen years of love."

"It was a pretty big moment," Burt argued, sliding his hand around to rest on Kurt's perfectly-coiffed hair. "Hitting his biggest weakness."

"But he loves you," Carole assured Burt, touching her fingers against his hand in Kurt's hair. "And even if he hasn't forgiven you now, he will forgive you, in time."

Burt nodded, leaning down to kiss Kurt's forehead. He said nothing more to Carole, just watched his son sleep. _I will earn your forgiveness_, he silently promised Kurt. _I will do whatever it takes to re-earn your trust._


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